Contact
by Veranda
Summary: Taiorato. 100 short shorts. Anything Goes.
1. Summer

Contact

a/n: Okay, I've decided to get on the bandwagon. Here is the first of my sequence of 100 Tai/Matt/Sora short shorts: 25 Taiora, 25 Sorato, 25 Matt/Tai friendship and otherwise, 25 Taiorato. Just a little something to keep you all company while I'm working on chapters of In-Between-Time. Please review, and also, make sure to check out _Bloom_ by Kuwa-chan and _Love_ by Flash-Indie. They're two other collections of 100 one-shots. Great reads, really.

Update: Also, somehow this was left out of my author's note. Enormous oversight on my part. Go read "Moments In Our Lives" by Orchid Falls. It's a lovely Taiorato, and was the main inspiration for this series.

* * *

Early July, and Tai was alone with his thoughts and the pounding of his footsteps on a bike path, not running to something or from something for once, just running for the sheer joy of movement and it felt _good. _He was home on break from his first year of college, badly in need of a haircut, feeling young and wild and wanting to throw research papers into stainless steel trashcans and let them go up in flames. The summer stretched out ahead of him, and there was suddenly so much time to _burn_; to _live_. 

He spotted her in an open field of green, just off the bike path, sprawled in the sun, her red hair lit-up-gold and fanned out around her head. Her eyes were closed, and her cheeks were pink with the sun and starting to freckle. As he crossed the short distance between them he stepped over her discarded tank top, a shoe here, socks, another shoe, and stood quietly above her, careful not to cast a shadow on her, trying not to laugh at her purely blissful expression or the way her skimpy red running shorts clashed with her hair. He watched the way her chest rose and fell under a white sports bra.

Tai dropped down lightly beside Sora and stretched out, and after a short while he sensed that she was watching him and turned to see her peering at him lazily through the lashes of a rose-colored eye. He smiled at her, slow and content, and even though it was uncomfortably hot and they were both sweaty and exhausted, Sora rolled and curled against his side, her hand on his solid chest, her knee tucked against his thigh. He sighed and placed a large palm on her back, spreading his long fingers wide against sun-warmed skin and they breathed together in the sun until they both dozed and nothing could have moved them.

Summer was Tai's favorite season. _Sora _was Tai's favorite season.


	2. Wherever

It wasn't so much that he couldn't dance…

Well no, that's exactly what it was. But Sora was nothing if not patient, and it was kind-of sweet, watching him trip over his feet in the flower shop after closing, his collared shirt untucked and rumpled and his green blazer tossed carelessly over the register. He got this certain look, so serious, and Sora tried hard not to laugh.

She had turned the lights off so the streetlamps lit the shop through the glass storefront, and switched the radio on so it played softly, providing a beat, even if he couldn't hear it. And then she slipped into his arms, smiled when he blushed, and guided one of his hands to her waist, held the other in her own, felt very small and safe.

"Like this," she said, a little unsteady, carefully leading the dance and feeling him fall into the easy rhythm, tentative. He grinned and ducked his head.

"Follow me," she added, and he looked up at that, gravely. They stopped dancing and just stood there in the smoky light. And that was when Sora lost the upper hand, because all she found in his steady, unguarded expression was the knowledge that she'd never have to tell Tai to follow her anywhere.


	3. Quieter

"Matt and I are like…fireworks, you know?" Sora said one day, lying on her back in the grass next to Tai. "We're all lightning and explosions. Everything is…blinding. It's so fast and fun it almost hurts."

"Mm-hm," Tai said, his head tucked comfortably against one crooked elbow as he watched the clouds roll by.

"I mean, he's beautiful," she said.

"Sure," Tai said amicably.

Sora rolled onto her stomach and blew her bangs out of her eyes. There was a long friendly silence.

"I love him, Tai," Sora said eventually.

"He's easy to love," Tai said, and then pointed at the sky. "That one looks like Agumon. See there? Next to the big fluffy peanut."

Sora propped herself up on one elbow and stared at Tai until he glanced her way.

"Tai," she said. "Me and Matt, we're like a bomb going off."

"Sora-"

"Just wait," Sora said. "Me and Matt are something on fire, but you and me? I always pictured us in rocking chairs."


	4. Almost

Sora watched, amused, as Tai staggered down the steps with the last of his earthly posessions, crammed them hard into the back seat, and then stood back with a look of boyish satisfaction and accomplishment. She wondered how he'd see to drive, but he was so thrilled with himself that it seemed wrong to take him down a peg.

His car was loaded from floor mats to ceiling lights with soccer balls and running shorts, a poster tube, blue sheets, a pile of t-shirts that fit him enticingly over the shoulder blades when he leaned or moved or stretched just right, three pillows, a clock radio, Matt's new CD tucked carefully on the dash, a box of "but I might need that"s, and somewhere wrapped in a pair of jeans, a framed picture of a kiss that caught her off guard at Izzy's birthday party—she was blushing hard, her eyes wide, but Tai was fiercely content, eyes closed, holding on to her shoulders with both hands, everything, every arch and plane and shadow saying this is it, this is it.

"Are you sure you have everything you need?" she said dryly as he leaned hard on the door until the latch caught.

"Almost," he said, and opened the passenger side door, arching a challenging eyebrow.

"Oh," she said, and they stood quietly for a long time, but they didn't say goodbye.

Standing on the curb in front of Tai's house, watching him drive away, Sora was at least comforted by the distinct and painful feeling that she could, without any doubt, feel love for another person.

College was a bitch.


	5. Too Late

She found him at their old High School's practice field pounding a soccer ball into a faded, sagging net, running to retrieve it, taking another perfect shot. He was furious, that much was obvious from his body language, but at least he was taking it out on the ball instead of her. Of course, he didn't know she was standing quietly in the shadow of the stands, building up her courage, trying to find a way to take it all back.

It wasn't that they hadn't fought before. They had. They'd had worse fights, and they'd _definitely _had more public fights. It was just that this particular fight was so close to the wedding, and he was scared and hurt and didn't know what to do. She got that. She was scared too.

Tai ran to grab the ball from the net, ran back, dropped the ball and jogged several feet back, preparing to take the shot. He bent his knees, ready to spring forward—and then stopped. He straightened, and Sora watched all of the frustration and anger leave him, watched him scrub a hand across his face, watched him stand there looking very lonely and lost, and that was enough to make her step out from the shadow and cross the field to hug him from behind, pressing her cheek between his shoulder blades. He leaned back into her, and she could hear his heartbeat.

"Do you still want to marry me?" she whispered.

"I don't know," he said, and she started to pull away, but he caught one of her hands and held her in place. "Is it too late to get a refund on the flowers?"

She froze. "Yeah, Tai."

"And the down-payment on the reception hall? What about that?"

"We definitely can't get that back."

Tai turned to face Sora, keeping hold of that one hand, and spun her once, slowly. "Plus, Matt's been working really hard on his speech. He'd be devastated if we told him the wedding was off."

Sora nodded gravely. "He'd probably cry."

"Well then, I guess we'll have to go through with it."

"I guess we will."

They didn't say anything for a long moment, just stood with their fingers laced together, and they both knew that later there would be coffee and serious conversation until the early hours of the morning, but all of that could wait, so Sora shoved him lightly, dodged around him and took off down the field with his soccer ball, but he knew her too well to be surprised and had it back in no time.


	6. Best Man

"Tai and Sora are like two cookies cut out with the same cookie cutter. Well…no. Not really. They're more like two cookies made out of the same dough. Like, they're both oatmeal raison cookies…ah…Tai hates raisons, actually. So does Sora, come to think of it. Sugar cookies! Everyone likes sugar cookies. Also, they probably work better with the whole cookie cutter thing. So they're both rolled out of the same ball of dough, and baked in the same oven—God! That makes them sound like they're related or something. That's not what I meant. I just…hmm. I just mean that they come off different. He's loud and kind of obnoxious and…_really _irritating, actually. Wow. And Sora…she's some kind of special. So they _seem _different. But they're not. There's something the same about them. Like they're the same kind of…cookie…essentially."

TK binked.

Matt sighed, "It works in my head."

"No, it's um…good," TK said.

"Maybe if I write it down," Matt said, and rushed off to grab a pad of paper and pen.

TK slouched, hooked one elbow over the back of his chair, and sighed. "It's going to be a long night."


	7. New Moon

He saw her on the dock in a sleek blue swimsuit, frozen and ready to take the plunge, toes curled down over the wooden edge, and he didn't take another step, didn't want to make a sound and ruin a perfect moment, wanted to see what would happen next. He saw her with the sun behind her, with long muscular legs and tanned skin, and suddenly he wanted to see her everywhere, everywhen, on a beach at sunset, at the summit of a mountain, in Egypt, in the snow, in a wedding dress, in nothing at all.

He had seen her at the lake a hundred times before—on hot summer days when her little red pigtails were full of sand and she was missing her two front teeth; on winter nights under the floodlights with a matching scarf and mittens, gliding graceful on hockey skates—but he had never seen her like this, and as he stood amazed she bent her knees, tensed, and dove.

He watched the spot where she had disappeared, and the surface was calm, save for the smallest of ripples, but he knew it was boiling underneath—down in the dark water she was stirring up the current. She was fighting the moon for control of the tides.


	8. Phases

It occurred to Sora quite suddenly while sitting next to Tai on the couch in the fading light, during a commercial for dish detergent, on Thursday, that she wanted him.

Just another passing thought, drifting along with _still have to write that stupid paper _and _Tennis practice at four instead of three thirty tomorrow _and she almost missed it entirely, but there it was—the distinct and almost irresistible urge to turn, settle herself in Tai's lap with a knee on either side of him, and kiss him with her palms flat on his chest.

"Oh," she said without meaning to, and then clapped a hand over her mouth.

Tai reached over to grab a handful of popcorn from the bowl on Sora's lap and her heart tripped over itself trying to beat. Tai spared her a mildly interested glance. "What's up?"

"What?" she said too quickly.

"You said 'oh.'"

"No I didn't," she said and turned bright red.

Tai smirked and looked back at the TV. "Okay."

Sora slouched deep into the couch, shoved a handful of popcorn into her mouth, and tentatively, almost guiltily, replayed the fantasy in her head.

And again.

She chewed her popcorn.

She smiled a new-moon smile, and everything changed.


	9. Have To

In the third grade, Tai, a scruffy whirlwind of scuffed knees and pet tadpoles, liked Shelley O, and told her so at recess while she whizzed across the monkey bars, her long blonde braid swinging back and forth like a thick rope. But Shelley said he had funny hair, and her best friend Ani laughed, and the next thing Shelley knew, she had 65 pounds of Sora on top of her and the beginnings of a black eye that would darken to a deep lavender by the next morning.

And senior year of college, when Tai's charismatic girlfriend dumped him for a basketball player named Frankie, Sora went around calling her "that whore" for several months, even though they'd been quite close and spent several slow rainy Sundays together window shopping at the mall with steaming cups of cocoa tucked against their palms.

So when Sora married Matt one quiet night in the fall, Tai kept careful control of his expression and his hand gripped the edge of his chair so hard it hurt, and he grinned and hugged them both when they ran to him afterwards, flushed with excitement, because when the person you go to when you're hurting is the person hurting you, what can you do, really, except what you have to?


	10. Yesterday

a/n: As of…well it's 1:00 AM apparently, so…as of _yesterday_ now, I've been writing on this site for seven years. God. Talk about not being able to let go of the past. I need therapy. But in all seriousness, here's to Digimon fanficcers everywhere—past and present. Thanks for being my yesterday.

* * *

Tai figured it was probably a bad idea, letting Sora cut his hair, but she looked so sure of herself with her silver scissors, and he loved the way her cool fingers felt against his temples, so he sat in the chair she moved onto the linoleum and closed his eyes.

It really _was _time. He wasn't running wild on a college campus anymore. Wasn't leading his strange little army across the Digital World. He had a kid and responsibilities and a big job interview at the end of the week. He had places to go, people to meet—he needed travel-sized hair. He needed to streamline.

Tai felt the soft weight of Sora's hands on his shoulders and waited, but she didn't move.

"This feels weird," she said finally.

"It's just hair, Delilah," he said.

She laughed, lifted the scissors, and went to work.

In the end there was nothing but the sound of a radio in the next room, the droning hum of the fan in the window, and a pile of hair on the floor that Sora couldn't quite take her eyes off of.

"Looks smaller when it's not on your head," she said, hands on her hips, and then quietly burst into tears.

Later, after Tai had swept the kitchen floor, he joined Sora on the porch steps, leaning over to kiss her on the top of her head and hand her a smooth white mug of tea.

"Lemon," she said, and her voice sounded strange and tight.

"Yeah."

"It's my favorite"

"I know."

They were quiet for a long time, watching their young son chasing the neighbor girl around the front yard, and eventually Sora set down the empty mug on the step beside her.

"I miss it, too," Tai said, and Sora turned to find him looking somehow older and younger in the day's fading light.

"What, your hair?" she quipped.

Tai laughed and ran a hand self-consciously over his head.

"No, I know." Sora said. "It's yesterday. It just…haunts me sometimes. I get so caught up in all the rushing around, and then I remember that we were kids once, and everything was so…"

"Big," Tai said.

At the edge of the garden, their boy Haru tackled the neighbor girl, and then shot Tai and Sora a furtive glance to see if he'd been caught. He had, and his sheepish grin (sans two front teeth) gave his playmate the opening she needed to squirm away and take off like a shot for the tire swing up by the mailbox.

"I guess I just wish things could be big again," Sora said.

Tai smiled.

"Are you saying you want me to grow back my hair?"

Sora punched Tai in the arm, and he laughed, loud and easy.

Sora's heart burned a little, then.

He sounded just like yesterday.


	11. That Good

He woke her up at 4 am, and that was half the magic. Smiling under warm covers, waiting with her eyes still closed, Sora knew—he would take her into the strange hollow morning, and she would be safe with him. Tai was much bigger than any early morning monster.

They were just entering the beginnings of fall (when the chilly bite of cold is lurking just behind the warmth of the sun) and the days were picnic days, but the nights were moving towards cruel, and he coaxed her bare feet into last season's tall furry boots before tugging his own floppy sweatshirt over her pajamas and taking her by the hand.

"Tai, honey…what?" she mumbled, but he led her outside and locked the door behind them.

"None of that," he said, and leaned in for a quick kiss while she grumbled about morning breath and fussed with her sleep-mussed hair.

They rode double on his bike with Sora on the handlebars just like when they were kids and when they got where they were going Tai settled her against his chest, dangled his wide feet in the water and sighed. She fell asleep, but that was okay, because that's what mornings at the lake are for—light naps and lazy circular conversations, and have you ever noticed that every lake is _the _lake, like it's the only lake left in the world?

Tai pulled out a thermos and the coffee was cold, but Sora reached for it anyway and took small grimacing sips while they watched the stars disappear from that in-between-sky.

Have you ever had one of those days that's so good it's sad, and when it's over it hurts a little, thinking back?

Well, Tai pulled out a bakery bag of squashed cinnamon rolls, and some time around noon Sora pushed him in the lake with all of his clothes on and followed him in with _none _of hers on and they went for dinner looking drippy and disheveled, but Sora smiled so much she almost cried.

It was just that sort of day, you know. Good and sad with stolen hours in the morning and late to bed and why can't days like these go on forever?


	12. Infinite Inches

Sometimes, when everything's the same as it's always been, two inches can be two inches, a hand can be a hand, and smiling back is not scary yet, not even from two inches away.

But something changes between Wheel of Fortune and a Ronco Infomercial, and you realize you're sitting on the couch beside your best friend, not really watching the TV, wondering how the two inches between you got to be so absurdly vast.


	13. Small Favors

Back in those days when they were kids in a pastel place like a sheet of paper pressed against the world, Sora found Tai in the hot afternoon standing barefoot on the sandy shore of a Digiworld lake. His socks and shoes were at the edge of the forest in an untidy heap, and Sora peeled off her own to add to the pile before stepping carefully in each of his footprints like you do in the winter when it snows and you're small and your parents' feet are so much bigger than yours.

"Hey, Tai," she said, coming up beside him.

Tai grinned at her sideways and said, "Watch this."

There was a cluster of fat red berries in his hand, ripe to bursting, and he plucked one from its stem and wound up for a far-reaching toss. The berry soared and hit with a plop, then disappeared.

"Nice throw," Sora said, "but I bet I can—"

She froze, hand outstretched, reaching for the berries, and gaped at the center of the lake. Something large and scaly had surfaced, nosed the berry into the air like a playful dolphin, and snatched the winking red bead up with gruesome long teeth.

"Yow," she said, and Tai laughed.

"He's cute, huh?" he said, and Sora watched, amused, as he lobbed another berry. This one the beast caught out of the air.

"Adorable," Sora said, and this time she did grab a few berries from Tai and made good on her boast—Sora had a far superior throwing arm.

They kept at it until the berries ran out, and then they just stood, wiggling their toes in the sand—Sora thought she could stay that way forever, but Tai mumbled, "Etemon…" and would have walked away if Sora hadn't stopped him.

"Hey," she said. "Lighten up. The world will still be in peril tomorrow. And you throw like a girl."

She punched him in the arm, and he took off after her, and he felt so light. Later, when the sky was orange, Tai swam out to meet his pet monster while Sora fretted on the shore. The digimon snuffed and swam around him playfully, and Tai loved Sora a little bit, because she stole an afternoon for him—something he could never do for himself.


	14. Gumball

When Tai was five he lost his first tooth and he found a shiny quarter under his pillow. He gave it to Sora and she bought a big green gumball, which is a hard thing to share, but she split it with a rock and gave him the bigger half.

Now, that's love.


	15. Jumping the Gun

Sora likes to be up before the sun. If she can see the day coming, nothing can catch her off guard. She slips into running shoes without a thought to taking a day off or taking it easy--she can't see the appeal of that. This is second nature to her, like breathing. Her unusual childhood taught her to be alert, on her toes, ten steps ahead. No need to unlearn these things now.

She hits the lakefront before the sun and pushes harder, feeling the hot rays reaching for her, licking at her heels, wrapping her ankles in the warmth of a new day. Sometimes she feels desperate, sometimes she wonders if she's losing ground, but she's always as fast as she knows how to be.

When she rounds off her fourth steady mile, the city is coming awake all around her, but nothing can touch her, no one can touch her. The sun is climbing, and she is long out of reach. She exists before the day, before time. Sora sees it all coming. No surprises.


	16. Interlude

When Tai hears the front door lock tumble he rolls out of bed and shambles into the living room. Sora is there, glowing and rosy, unlacing her running shoes.

"Hi," she says, and runs a hand through his unruly hair on her way to the shower.

"Waffles?" Tai says.

"Mmm," Sora says, and Tai turns to watch her strip off her shirt before disappearing behind the bathroom door.

"Tease," he mutters, and reaches for a mixing bowl.


	17. Catching Up

When the sun dips low and the world takes on an orange tint, Tai is bursting with adrenaline, rushing, trying to hold on to the day. Sora is in the kitchen, putting on the kettle, scrubbing a few last minute dishes.

"Need a hand with that?" he says, eyeing the front door.

"Go on," Sora says, and he is gone in a flash, taking the first mile fast and hard, racing out in front of cars, trying to beat the sunset. He hits the lakeside trail and sprints, overtaking the shadows, bursting into the glow of the last fading rays. His pounding steps are the only sound. He is alone with the last seconds of the day. He can almost feel it--the inevitable tumble into tomorrow. The uncontrollable loss of time. He staggers to an abrupt halt, breathing hard, and turns to stare into the white hot half circle of the sun sinking into the lake.

It's going, going…

It's nearly gone.


	18. Intersection

Sora startles awake at midnight and reaches for Tai but there's no one beside her. She reaches blindly over the edge of the bed and feels around on the cold hardwood flood until she finds a pile of terrycloth. She doesn't bother with the lights, just belts the robe at her waist and stumbles into the living room.

He's sitting on the porch, as she expected, and she can see his hair in silhouette against the city lights beyond. He doesn't turn as she slides the glass door open and stands behind him, and she realizes he's dozed off in the chair, half a cup of coffee balanced on the armrest. He still has his running shoes on.

"Tai," she whispers, gently touching his shoulder. "Are you awake?"

"No," he says, and slumps down further.

"Come to bed," Sora says, with a quiet smile.

Tai gets up and stretches, gulps the last of his lukewarm coffee, and scoops Sora up in his arms without fanfare. She shrieks, and the sounds echoes over the city, but Tai just laughs and tosses her over his shoulder.

"Wait!" Sora says through a gale of giggles, and Tai stops just long enough so she can reach back and slide the porch door shut.

They are both wide awake now, lost in the fun of their shared life, just thinking _I am home_, and that is the difference, I suppose, between being alone and not--the intersection of lives. That sort of peace.


	19. Too Late 2

Author's note: Hello lovelies! Originally I had imagined this fic as something very structured: 25 Taiora, 25 Sorato, 25 Taito, 25 Taiorato... I think making it that regimented was a mistake, so I'm actually going to open it up a bit. I'm still going to focus on the Tai/Matt/Sora dynamic for the most part, but if I feel like writing about anyone else I'm just going to do it. I'm also going to write a few companion shorts for In-Between-Time since I'm working on finishing that monster up right now. I'll figure out how to label those in the chapter headings so you know which ones they are. That being said...prepare for a flurry of updates. Or my approximation of a flurry. But you know me.

* * *

Matt did a stellar job of keeping his feelings for Sora to himself until he accidentally overflowed a tall drinking glass as he tried to fill it from the ice maker while laughing at something Sora said, sending several cubes flying to shatter against the floor in a startling display of clumsiness and nerves. Sora, leaning against the counter, saw the blush spread up the back of his neck as he bent to gather the melting shards, and when he stood she was watching him with an expression that made him squirm.

Matt tossed the ice in the sink and wiped his wet palms on his dark jeans, just for something to do.

"You like me," Sora said, matter-of-factly.

"Shut up," Matt said, and tried to exit the kitchen with his usual cool grace, but it was just way too late for that.


	20. IBT: Little Things

Before Tai, Sora always thought that love was something you had to look for in the fine print. You know, the stupid things you do to get someone's attention. Going to all of their soccer games. Switching to fifth period chemistry. New hair pins. It was like that with Matt, anyway. A slow drift into love; something built from the little things. But Tai never learned how to do anything little. He couldn't just say "I love you," he had to fling himself in the path of an oncoming...whatever. He certainly had the "stupid things" part down pat.

...maybe that wasn't fair.

With Tai, there was no fine print. The young man sitting across the low-burning fire, bent in quiet conversation over Izzy's laptop, was still that same big haired boy who felt for each one of them - without anyone ever telling him to - a pure, unwavering responsibility. She watched his eyes move from the computer screen, to the dark gaps between the trees, to Matt, dozing with his swollen ankle propped on Mimi's backpack and she finally understood that his reckless disregard for his own safety wasn't a stunt, and wasn't about attention...it was what it was. No games. Nothing done halfway. Just a singular, incomparable love.

She was suddenly overcome with the things she wanted to tell him. Everything he'd missed, everything she'd filed away under "I have to tell Tai-" Little things. She stared until he felt it and she held his gaze through the hot glow of the fire until something fierce bled out of his expression leaving only...softness.

And then he smiled - a little quirk of the lips - and staggeringly, overwhelmingly, Sora wanted to do something stupid.


	21. Housewarming

"Oh, for the love of...will you two stop screwing around?" Joe said, watching Tai clap a hand over his mouth in a last second attempt at not spitting out his drink, but he sloshed a bit over the rim of his cup anyways, soaking Matt's shoes.

"Fuck, Tai!" Matt said, but he was laughing too.

"I didn't fall_ all the way_ down the stairs," Tai finally managed to get out, between bubbling explosions of laughter and a flailing gesture that suggested he had more to add if everyone would just wait. "I just sort of...grabbed the railing on the way down and...skidded to a graceful stop."

Matt doubled over, way beyond laughing, just letting out a sort of drawn-out wheeze.

"Jesus, shut up!" Tai said, grinning.

"You looked ridiculous! The look on your_ face!_" Matt said, visibly struggling to get ahold of himself. He took a gulp of his drink and fixed Tai with a fond look, shaking his head. "That girl got as far away from you as she could."

"What can I say," Tai deadpanned. "I am great with the ladies."

On the couch behind them, Sora let out a rather loud snort. Tai primly ignored her.

Matt got a far away look, quietly reliving the incident, and then immediately lost it again, pressing the heel of his free hand into his side and laughing, soundlessly, until his legs turned to rubber.

"We should do this more often," Tai said, and a slow grin spread across his face as he watched Matt sag against the back of the couch, somewhere between laughing and crying.

"Seriously," Joe said, "You're paying for that carpet."


End file.
